Antiseptic
by Drosselmeyer's Ancestor
Summary: kinkmeme fill, wound cleaning. Armin can't help but notice Jean.


They'd gone out on a short expedition, just to get more supplies, but nevertheless, there were injuries among the scouting legion. Armin hurries around the compound, passing out antiseptic and bandages, but stops when he sees Jean sitting against the wall, clumsily wrapping his upper arm.

He runs over. "Jean, do you need any help?"

Jean looks at his arm, seeming frustrated, then nods. "Yeah, thanks."

Armin kneels down, gently putting the supplies in his arms on the ground. "All right, so where are your wounds?" He pauses. "Besides your arm, I mean."

Jean mutters something that he doesn't quite catch. Armin sighs.

"Jean, I can't help you if you don't tell me clearly." He folds his arms together. He's about to add on, 'so hurry up', but Jean mutters again, except for louder.

"...It's probably just a scratch."

"Where though?"

Jean grunts, shifting his position so he's sitting upright instead of leaning on the wall. "My back."

"All right." Jean's legion jacket is already off, lying to the side, but his shirt is still on, though the sleeves are rolled up. Armin can't help but notice that Jean is well built, his shirt is soaked in sweat, and he can see Jean's abs, well defined through the clinging material. Armin busies himself with preparing the antiseptic.

"Well I'll clean your arm, and then I can look at your back, kay?"

"You don't really have to, it's probably nothing." Jean says, this time with a little insistence in his voice. Armin is tempted to roll his eyes for a moment, instead he replies, "It's okay Jean. It'll probably only take a second."

Jean doesn't answer, preferring to look at the cloth in Armin's hand, now soaked in disinfectant.

"This'll probably hurt a little." Armin says, then presses the cloth to the wound. Jean hisses a bit, lips pursed, teeth clenched. Armin can feel the flush rising on his neck. There's something...Impressive about Jean when he's like this, quiet, but still passionate from the fight, eyes still sharp, ready. Armin is suddenly aware of the weight of Jean's arm in his hands, the way it's still damp with sweat and the muscle that shifts slightly in his palms. He looks up and finds Jean looking down at the wound, tongue peeking out of his lips for a moment, and Armin swallows. He wraps Jean's arm hastily, and a little too tight.

"Ouch, geesh. It's not bleeding a lot."

"Sorry."

Jean looks at him, then shrugs, pulling his shirt over his head, and Armin winces. There's a nasty gash on his back, though it's not bleeding much, just scrapes all in a line.

"How'd that happen?" He asks. He's tempted to trace the line down Jean's back for a moment, follow the curve of his shoulder blades, his eyes make a trail from top to bottom, and then Jean opens his mouth.

"Hit a tree." He mumbles. "Titan almost got me, so I had to make a bad turn."

His voice is low and apologetic, and something creeps down in Armin, a coiled heat slithers towards his belly. He grabs the supplies again in a hurry.

"I'll," He stutters, pauses, "I'll just wipe it clean, ok? Since it doesn't look deep."

"Yeah. Thanks." Jean says, facing him, and Armin gets a full look at Jean's body, and it's not like Armin hasn't seen abs before, everyone has them, even himself, though they don't show as much, but...Jean's body is, well, attractive. There's definition in all the right places, yet a wiry aspect that sends Armin somewhere else for a moment, committing to memory every line, every detail, the smoothness of his stomach down to the thin trail of hair that leads into places Armin had never really thought about until this second.

"Armin?"

"Sorry." He says, snapping out of it. "Sorry. I had a thought."

Jean laughs, breathy and light, and Armin very nearly chokes on nothing. "Can't it wait for a minute?"

"I guess not." Armin replies. "Can you turn around?"

"Yeah, sure." And then he does, and Armin sees his back again, and his eyes refuse to follow orders. They trail down the curve of Jean's spine until they get to his ass, and he can't. Help it. He ogles the curve, the shape, and then his conscience takes over and he snaps his eyes back to the task at hand. He rubs gently, swallows for the second time since he offered to do this, and holds back the urge to drop the cloth altogether, press his hands onto the skin and feel.

Jean makes that hissing noise again. Armin begs himself to think of something else besides how ridiculously hot it is getting.

"Done." Armin says.

Jean stretches, and the muscles shift on his back, and Armin holds back again, watching the stretch of Jean's skin. He makes a noise in the back of his throat. Jean groans a little, and Armin would have noticed the cracking noise of bones if he'd been paying attention to anything other than that one groan. He quickly bends down, whispering to himself, "no no no no no no no no no", thinks of random facts to dim his boner under his clothes. It works for the moment.

He sighs, relieved. Jean gives him a quizzical look, and Armin quickly grabs Jean's shirt and jacket off the floor, handing it to him.

"Here."

"Thanks." Jean says, this time with a smile, and Armin nods. "No problem."

He watches Jean leave, shirt and jacket under his arm. _His legs are just as nice as the rest of him_, is the passing thought he has before he shakes his head and runs to another corner to help another solider.

* * *

[de-anoning from the kink meme. guhhh this is so...euh]


End file.
